Learn about "Day of the Dead" (Celebrated today)
(The November 2 Compassionate Living Tip from Interfaith Paths to Peace)
http://m.us.wsj.com/article_ email/ SB1000142405270230384310457916 7982472259344- lMyQjAxMTAzMDAwMTEwNDEyWj
(The November 2 Compassionate Living Tip from Interfaith Paths to Peace)
http://m.us.wsj.com/article_
OCEANSIDE, Calif.—John Finneran was a proud Irish-American with a passion for classic cars who died last year at age 81. This year, to honor his memory, his daughter decided to erect an altar in the trunk of his 1940 Cadillac LaSalle and display it at a Day of the Dead celebration here.
"I'm sure my father's here and loving this," said Dorothy Petrich, 55, standing alongside the shiny black car last Sunday at the Old Mission San Luis Rey event, which drew a crowd of some 25,000.
Once observed mainly by people of Mexican heritage, Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, a venerable and quirky holiday that honors the departed with a blend of Aztec and Christian elements, is getting new life in the U.S. among a mainstream audience. From museums to dolls to an animated Walt Disney Co. movie, los muertos and their annual day are on the rise in popular culture, a development that gratifies new fans, but irks some traditionalists.
"Day of the Dead is becoming the cool holiday," says Celine Mares, co-founder of a popular annual event in a Hollywood cemetery. "Halloween is passé.""This is about remembering the dead with fun instead of throwing them in a garden, crying and then forgetting them," said Tom Bernardy, a middle-aged surfer raised Catholic who was viewing the altars on display at Mission San Luis Rey.
According to Muertos tradition, on Nov. 1 and 2, the heavens open and the souls of the dead return to earth. Their living relatives build altars with offerings of food, drink and even sports memorabilia to entice them to come down, dine and celebrate.
For her father's altar, Ms. Petrich ringed the Caddy trunk with marigolds and bright-colored garland. Mementos included pictures of Mr. Finneran, as well as his straw hat adorned with car-club pins, and comestibles, such as his favorite chocolate-caramel chewy cookies, ginger ale and the festive sweet roll called pan muerto.
People who stopped by the car engaged in lively conversation about the dead. They learned about her dad and his car hobby, but also about her grandmother's love of Wrigley's Doublemint gum and the fact her husband's grandmother was an early female graduate of the Cordon Bleu cooking school in France.
Friars from the mission, dressed in traditional robes, blessed a series of altars erected in vintage cars, as well as larger, more elaborate altars set up in the historic church's grassy courtyard. "We're poking fun at death; it's a delight to see," Father Michael Dallmeier said as he made the rounds.
Embracing his own mortality, Oceanside Mayor Jim Wood got half his face painted to resemble a colorful skull, a holiday tradition. "Until recently, most of us didn't understand what this was all about," he said, scanning the diverse crowd.
Maureen Sullivan, who has organized the Oceanside event for the past five years, says she sees interest in Day of the Dead growing, citing inquiries from across the country. "People want to know what it's about," she said.
In Texas, Houston's science museum offers a workshop for teachers interested in taking the holiday into their classrooms. "It's probably our most popular workshop," said education director Nicole Temple. Lesson One, she says: "It's not Mexican Halloween."
In San Diego, Philip Shirk says Muertos-related items in his Vintage Religion store, such as whimsical, colorful skulls, represented 5% of his business seven years ago. Now they account for about half. "It keeps cannibalizing the rest of the store," he said as he prepared a shipment of sugar-skull molds going to the East Coast.
Mr. Shirk offers a workshop on making sugar skulls, a traditional Muertos treat. While his usual clientele includes "rockabillies" and Goth types attracted to ghoulish items, he says several return clients are white, middle-aged women who have taken up the craft.
The rise of mainstream interest in Dia de los Muertos is often associated with Hollywood Forever Cemetery. For 14 years, the sprawling burial ground, where many celebrities are interred, has been the site of a Day of the Dead celebration.
In its first year, 1999, the event attracted barely 300 people. "It was Mexican families and bohemian types," recalls co-founder Ms. Mares. On Saturday, about 35,000 people are expected for a day featuring musical performances, processions and 100 altars.
Rebecca Anderson will woo her mother's spirit back with her beloved beer and oatmeal cookies. "My mom would think I'm nuts," says the Lutheran Minnesota native. "She'd also like it, because I am remembering her."
Each year, the crowd has grown larger and more diverse, Ms. Mares says, with Catholic Filipinos, Jews and Russian Orthodox building altars. As more Americans have embraced Day of the Dead, the holiday has evolved. Altars to pets and to fallen stars, like Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson, have become common at the cemetery event.
Companies are also jumping in Nestle., a sponsor of the cemetery event, says it will attempt to "establish the Guinness World Record for the largest Day of the Dead altar in the U.S." Its entry will portray stylish female skeleton figures known asCatrinas enjoying cups of its Mexican-style hot chocolate and its instant coffee.
As part of its Monster High doll franchise, toy maker Mattel sells Skelita Calaveras, whose face resembles a sugar skull and whose black, flowing hair boasts marigold streaks.
Earlier this year Walt Disney scrapped an application to trademark the term "Dia de los Muertos," which it had filed for a coming movie about the holiday from its Pixar Animation Studios. The move followed online outrage, including a cartoonist who drew a fanged "Muerto (Mickey) Mouse" in protest. The company said it withdrew the application after deciding to change the movie's title.
At Mission San Luis Rey, Ms. Sullivan acknowledged the holiday's evolution may irk some, but said of her event, "We stick to the traditional roots but give the event a mainstream twist."
And so, on Sunday, a Mexican-American woman "smudged" attendees with a smoking bundle of herbs as part of a traditional cleansing rite. Folkloric dancers with skeletal faces pranced on the stage. Children decorated candy skulls with icing. And at an award ceremony, Ms. Petrich teared up as her Cadillac was proclaimed "best" of the car displays.
"We'll be back next year," she said, adding: "I feel like my grandkids are going to carry this tradition on."
—Ben Fritz contributed to this article.
Write to Miriam Jordan at miriam.jordan@wsj.com
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